


Different island times

by Keenir



Category: Last Resort (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keenir/pseuds/Keenir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glimpses into the mind and life of James King.</p><p>Each pairing is separate from one another - think of them as different possibilities for his life on the island.</p><p> </p><p>Note:	The following are different possibilities for whom King may have become involved with during his time on the island of Sainte Marina.  Canon events are used as a timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different island times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [florahart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/gifts).



> With thanks to Fififolle, proofreader extraordinary.

JAMES KING/SAM KENDAL

He’s good for him, and both enjoys and is surprised by that goodness - it’s been far too long since _he_ had something good just for him.

He doesn’t remember how they started, thinks the B.Z. may have cratered a few more spots in his memory than just around the attack.

He’s seen it before. Fully-capable officers giving life and limb to the service, then sacrificing a little more, then put under pressure that has nothing to do with depth. Let them have an outlet, a release valve - a venting, if you will - and they seize upon a chance at normalcy. _All the better if that normal doesn’t conflict with the oath he’s contorting himself to keep complying with._

No matter how he feels, James hasn’t contemplated marriage for one reason: _When we were starting, I told him not to do anything that he’d think of as infidelity._ And with that perimeter in place, the rest has gone off without a hitch. _Mostly._

“And Christine?” James asks one day in that heartbeats-thin moment between hot-and-heavy and hot-and-heavy-and-involved; and watches Sam’s face go back to the haunted look he’s worn like a second skin more and more on this island until lately.

“I can’t get in touch with her,” Sam says, which is the God’s Honest Truth. “I’ve tried… I’ve even tried asking Serrat for some time with whatever he used when our bosses convinced him to drug the water. He didn’t go for it.”

“Not surprising.” _No doubt thought you were going to destroy it into little pieces._

James knows that, while they’re both good together - _happy_ is a strange word to use when the 800-pound gorilla is perpetually a hairs-breath from crushing you both and all your shipmates under its heel - the geopolitical situation could change at any moment; he himself’s accustomed to that sort of uncertainty, political and personal. But he knows that, sooner or later, one of these global shifts will hurt Sam on a level that _matters_ ; like Christine. And knows the decision will score him deep no matter what he chooses.

So what James does is to keep her fresh in Sam’s mind; _let him think I’m weird or sick about it, but things hurt more when they take you by surprise. Learned that the hard way._

*************************************************************************

JAMES KING/SOPHIE GIRARD

With the tip of his index finger’s pad, he draws an invisible line once again, connecting the freckles under her one eye, sliding over her nose, and then treating those freckles above her mouth in the same way.

“People will talk,” she says in mock protest.

“Nah,” is all James says. _They’re all too scared of Serrat. And those who aren’t, don’t give a shit._

“Good,” Sophie says, and draws him in without resistance.

Not for the first time, the observational part of James’ brain notes how Sophie’s quarters are practically a shrine to Sainte Marina - the island, though the saint has a small corner table.

On one wall, draped by landsat photos and digital snaps of the western slopes of the island, is a large-ish drawing of something… _Giant salamander? Prehistoric big-headed lizard? Brother would probably have a clue,_ he lets himself think, before devoting as much of his attention as his training will allow, to the curve of a certain French adam’s apple.

Sophie and James take a good, enjoyable five minutes to reach the bed. And just before they might fall upon it, he’s called back to the sub to answer yet some more questions.

Most days, they never progress beyond playful nips at one another’s throat, past planting kisses up and down the neck’s part of the spine. Neither of them have a problem with that. Going all the way, isn’t the point.

And marriage? _Maybe once the nuclear standoff comes to a close._ He’d like that, but… _What happens is what happens._

*************************************************************************

JAMES KING/PILAR CORTEZ

They have an agreement, a linchpin to what some call a relationship: no mention of the crap they encounter during serving hours, or of the shit rising to the surface when they’re off-duty.

King’s older brother, the biologist, used to mention phrases like ‘mutually beneficial symbiosis,’ and _maybe, possibly maybe,_ James lets himself contemplate before diving into sleep one night, _that applies here._

He’d buried his head in her shoulder after that deepwater cutting-it-too-close. She’d been held and rocked gently after that trouble with her ex-fellow-hostage on the bridge.

One day, “You’re not going to ask?” Pilar asked in a voice anyone else would mistake for a statement of fact.

“Done enough extraction,” James says. “Might do some in the future,” and can’t make any promises he and his expertise won’t be turned against her - and she won’t ask him to promise that, and he loves her for not asking for that promise.

“Going in the woods,” which says everything and says nothing. “Back in half hour, if there’s no traffic.”

 _Foot traffic, vehicles, wildlife,_ being a few of the possible delays she meant. James sends her a look that says he’ll come if she needs help.

She nods, and goes.

King suspects he may be drowning. Thinks they both are. Albeit in each other.

*************************************************************************

JAMES KING/GRACE SHEPARD

There were times he wondered if they were having sex or playing full-body Battleship; she had the same play-to-win attitude when they were alone, as she did on the bridge.

There were other times he wondered if his Nantucket ancestors had ever met a whale who harpooned herself. He didn’t object or stop her, just let Grace beat herself against him until she became exhausted or fell asleep; fortunately it was a rare event to begin with.

Physicality was one aspect. The abundant side, outnumbered only by the biting wit and intense glares of on duty Grace.

The other aspect was personal. _She keeps a lot to herself,_ James knew, and the pot knowing the kettle, he wasn’t inclined to ask her to open up. James King had learned to be a patient man long before he joined the SEALs, long before he joined the US Navy.

But even he has moments of weakness: “You don’t trust me, do you?” James asked her finally.

Grace looked at him for a moment that felt a little too long. “Sure I do. Why?”

Option One - Call her a liar.

Option Two - Accept that she’ll never let herself relax.

Neither option was something James wanted to do.

Some lengthy time later, still on the island and still with enemies in every direction, “You did it,” Grace half-says and half-asks, the look in her eyes saying _prove me wrong_.

“Nope.”

“I told you about -” _told me what happened to you, Grace, yes._ “And the next morning, Anders is found dead.”

“Still wasn’t me,” James says.

She stares at him, into him a while longer, then walks off. King knew, _You never asked about Hopper. Happy to do a solid like that._

*************************************************************************

JAMES KING/TANI TUMRENJACK

She’s good for him. _Been a long long while since I had anything good for **me.**_ He’s had times and experiences which were good for a team, good for the cause, sure - but those were different.

James knows his family well enough to know Tani would be welcomed with open arms; nobody has a problem with history repeating. One of his whaling forebears had a Hawaiian wife. His grandmother was Cuban. Somewhere in the family was a Manxman. _And once the standoff’s done here, a spouse from Sante Marina._

Tani was both a life preserver, helping keep his head above water, and an anchor, keeping him from being swept away. And in return… _She doesn’t ask for a fraction of what I owe._

The fate of the world, of civilization, and even a nation… None of that hung on his every decision when he was with Tani. With her, he played a role in things equally-important and on a smaller scale - a family’s dynamic, the preservation of a bar, the settling of accounts. _Global economies won’t collapse whether I fail or succeed to save a boy - but I will see heartfelt smiles, even better._


End file.
